


Conspiracy

by PhantomArchangel



Series: Iustitia Interludes [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Idiots in Love, Life Day (Star Wars), Shenanigans, the crew plays matchmaker with mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomArchangel/pseuds/PhantomArchangel
Summary: “Jaesa,” Vette says, “Pierce and I have a brilliant idea and we need your force powers.”





	Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from tumblr, in response to a prompt asking about mistletoe. Set in Iustitia-verse, sometime before the Alderaanian Wine Incident.
> 
> Worldbuilding taken from riajade01 and fluffynexu

Fresh, forest-y scents fill _Horizon_ as Jaesa goes about fixing the Life Day lights and tidying up the bits of tinsel that have fallen down since their mass decorating spree a week ago. The crew - by which she means herself, Vette, and Pierce, given that Captain Quinn has been getting progressively grumpier than usual as the holiday approaches and she’s pretty sure Gimrizh has never celebrated Life Day before - have been planning a proper Life Day dinner for tomorrow and Jaesa wants to make sure that their quarters are equally festive.

She almost drops the string of lights she's adjusting when Vette slides full force into their quarters, a sprig of tsipak root in hand.

The blinking lights have nothing on Vette's grin. “Jaesa,” she says, “Pierce and I have a _brilliant_ idea and we need your force powers.”

~*~

Malavai is not _opposed_ to Life Day on principle. Indeed, he rather approves of a lot of the Imperial traditions surrounding the holiday, and he has fond memories of the celebrations from when he was a child, and he isn’t _in theory_ against the idea of letting the crew celebrate and put up decorations. But this is too much. There needs to be a limit on decorations. It seems as though he can’t walk from one room to another without getting showered in tinsel or tripping over some festive bauble of Vette’s or getting tangled in haphazardly applied strings of lights. Holiday or not, this is still a military ship and there need to be _standards_.

Unfortunately he seems alone in this opinion, as Lord Gimrizh has been too distracted by the war effort to fully notice the chaos her ship and crew have descended into.

Which she demonstrates by walking straight into him as she leaves the galley, too engrossed in the datapad she’s been holding a centimeter away from her nose.

“Oh, Quinn,” she says, blinking up at him as though she really had no idea that he was there, and then she preemptively cuts off his apology by continuing, “I had a question about the new engine upgrades that were released yesterday. We’re supposed to implement them when we next land but…”

Her eyes trail up.

“My lord?”

She frowns at the ceiling. “What’s that?”

Something twists in his chest as he looks up and finds himself staring at a decorative sprig of tsipak root. Twisty and red, wrapped in ribbon to hang it from the door frame - totally innocuous and festive except for the fact that he knows it was _not there_ yesterday. He would have taken it down if he knew that Vette had started hanging the stuff up. It’s _not_ for non-pureblood Sith, and it’s considered rather immature for others to use it like this.

With a sigh, he informs Gimrizh, “It’s tsipak root, my lord. I imagine Vette put it up in some misguided attempt at a joke.”

“Why?”

“Well, because of…”

He stares at her. Her head is still tilted up to examine the root and there’s a tug on her lower lip that means she’s biting it ever so slightly, a confused set to her golden eyes, and it suddenly occurs to him that she genuinely has no idea what the root means. No idea that he’s supposed to kiss her. If he did, would she -

No. She is his commanding officer and he’s not interested. At all. This is a stupid tradition anyway.

“I - er - “ _Get yourself together_. “I have work to do - on the bridge. I’m sure you could ask Vette, or - or the lieutenant - Please excuse me, my lord.”

And then he turns on the spot and leaves.

~*~

It does not end.

Over the course of the afternoon, Malavai finds that every time he needs to speak with Lord Gimrizh, or happens to run into her, or _anything_ \- there is that damn sprig of tsipak root above their heads.

When they have a few hours to work on their bike in the cargo bay, the root is hanging above the machine.

When he finds her on the bridge to request her signature on some flimsiwork, it’s there.

When she’s grabbing a cup of caf from the galley and he’s making tea, it’s there.

After the third time it pops up, he returns to the doorway where he first saw it, and sure enough, it has vanished. Which means not only is he _not_ going insane, it means that _someone is behind this_. To double check that it’s the same root being moved, he digs his thumbnail into the root when it mysteriously appears over Gimrizh’s head in the hallway, leaving a crescent shaped indent behind. When it next shows up in the engine room, he can see the same damn mark he left.

This is a _conspiracy_.

Conspiracy. Noun. A scheme by three or more persons to commit an unlawful or harmful offense.

And he knows _exactly which three persons_.

~*~

“Okay,” Vette whispers to Jaesa as they watch Quinn once again flee from Gimrizh, the three of them peering through the crack in the medbay doors. “I think she’s heading to the cargo bay next, because it’s almost time for her afternoon ‘beat up a practice droid’ session.”

Pierce nods. “Yeah. She has her gloves on now, so she’s definitely going to punch shit.”

There’s a bit of shuffling as they all rearrange themselves. Vette almost cries when Pierce steps on her toes because _damn_ that guy weighs more than a tank. Then they’re all in position so that Jaesa can take point and use her nifty force gifts to float the tsipak root closer and closer towards the cargo bay.

Jaesa frowns. “Wait, it’s - “

The medbay doors are thrown open to reveal Quinn standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a truly impressive scowl on his face.

All three of them freeze and then Pierce yells - “Scatter!”

They make a run for it.

Jaesa and Pierce make it out, but Quinn grabs onto the back of Vette’s shirt before she can slip past him.

She can feel a grin slowly and nervously spread across her face. “Heeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy - “

“You will cease this childish activity at once,” Quinn demands, shoving the tsipak root into her hand like it disgusts him to so much as hold it. “And you will burn this in _Horizon_ ’s very expensive incinerator.”

She shrugs. “Or you could subscribe to tradition and just kiss Gimrizh.”

Pureblood Sith aren’t as red as Quinn’s face. “I would never - she is my commanding officer - and I would certainly not do such a thing for your amusement - “ He coughs. “That is to say, while such an immature prank might be acceptable elsewhere, this is still a military vessel and there are certain lines that need to be - well - there are - Gimrizh wouldn’t - “

“Go on,” Vette says, her grin only growing, “Take your time. I’m sure a good excuse will come to you eventually.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but his glare only intensifies. He points a finger at the root and repeats, “Burn. _It_.”

“What is going on here?”

Oh _yes_. Quinn whirls around so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t make himself dizzy and Vette just turns to face Gimrizh with a smile.

“Er,” Quinn tries. “My lord. I was just... “

Vette waves. “Heya.”

Gimrizh glances between the two of them with an unimpressed look in her eye and then just sighs. “I don’t want to know.”

Abandoning Quinn to try and sputter out an explanation, Vette slips away, dropping the root back into her pocket.

Mission: success?

~*~


End file.
